


Build Me Up From Bones

by deinvati



Category: Inception (2010), The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/F, First Meetings, Like they do, M/M, Minor Arthur/Eames (Inception), Napoleon/Illya (mention), girls crushing on girls, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 03:15:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13045338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deinvati/pseuds/deinvati
Summary: While Solo and Kuryakin have their pining mess, Gaby has her shit together.  But when a mission forces them to work with a new team, Gaby's the one left shaken up.  A smart young woman in a scarf has her wishing their worlds would crash together a bit more often.





	Build Me Up From Bones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Somedrunkpirate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somedrunkpirate/gifts).



> A fandom fusion for my dear friend Renn, who deserves good things and happy hugs! I hope you like it!
> 
>  
> 
> A/N: Since we're throwing together these two teams, from very different time periods, you may ask yourself, "Did the Man from UNCLE team move forward in time, or did the Inception team move backward?" Luckily, the answer to both of those is the same: "I don't know, I was being vague on purpose."
> 
> Title from the song [Build Me Up From Bones](https://youtu.be/X09s37tJ09s) by Sarah Jarosz
> 
> A GIGANTIC THANK YOU to [oceaxe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/pseuds/oceaxe), who read through this and helped make it better.

Gaby was the second one to arrive at the warehouse in Paris, which put her back up from the start. The only other person there was a young man with stick-out-ears and a suit that she'd have to hear about the entire lunch hour. He turned at her entrance, a curious eyebrow raised, but his face remained open and neutral. She squared her shoulders.

"Hello," she greeted, setting her bag and hat on the nearest desk and received a nod in return. He watched her look around, then went back to the files in front of him, so she considered it a closed conversation. She checked the coffee had been brewed- it had- and helped herself to a cup. She also made careful note of the "supplies" which had obviously been brought in, set up, and made ready for a team before anyone else was even supposed to be in the building. Several workstation areas, a pair of reclining beach chairs, and, surprisingly, a draft board and what look like art supplies. She squared a rack of x-acto knives against the desktop and frowned in concentration. There was too much about this mission she didn't know, on both sides, and that frustrated her.

"So," she said, turning, and he was already looking at her. She raised an eyebrow in challenge. "This is all very," she looked around, pointedly, "organized."

He looked at her like he was trying to solve a puzzle and her lips twitched.  _Good luck with that, my friend._   He shrugged. "That's part of my job."

"Mmm," she hummed nonchalantly. "And what job is that, exactly?"

He sat back in his chair and tipped it back slightly on the back legs, still studying her. "Making sure you can do your job."

_Interesting._

She made a point of checking the slim gold watch on her wrist. "And the rest of your team? What do they do?"

He gave her a half smile, and a ghost of a dimple appeared on his cheek. "Depends on the mark, really. Sometimes we don't know what we need until we get in there. We can work on a plan for this, though," he says, indicating the file on the desk in front of him, "as soon as the rest of your team shows up."

Gaby didn't grit her teeth because she doesn't give away tells that easily to strangers, so she just smiled sweetly and took a pointed look at the rest of the empty warehouse.

He had the good grace to look chastened and gave her a small but genuine smile. "Eames will be late. He always is. We can start without him."

"Hmm," she said, leaning back against the table behind her and sipping her coffee, which was just this side of terrible. "I have two of those, myself."

He smiled again and she warmed in spite of herself. She thought they might have been friends in another life.

Just as she was about to check her watch one more time, the warehouse door swung open and crashed into the wall, the echo reverberating around the large space. Illya barrelled in, Napoleon catching the door on the backswing like he'd known it was going to be there and sporting a smug little smile. Gaby felt her lips thin even as she straightened to greet her two missing team members.

"Gaby, my little desert blossom, how are you this fine morning?" Napoleon greeted her, his handsome face splitting with the win of whatever game he and Illya were playing.

"On time," she said quipped, but Napoleon acted like he hadn't even heard her.

"And you must be Arthur," Napoleon said, reaching a hand out to the slim man who had risen politely. "Napoleon Solo. I'd love to say I've heard great things about you, but the truth is that I've heard nothing at all about you. However, that is a fantastic suit."

If he'd been looking for a way to put Arthur on his back foot, that machine-gun-fast introduction seemed to have done it. Arthur shook Napoleon's hand and blinked as if dazed.

Illya stiffened and came forward, practically putting himself between the two besuited men. "Illya," he growled, shaking Arthur's hand with more force than was probably necessary, and not saying anything else, just staring down at Arthur from his considerable height.

Arthur went very still, his body held loosely like he was ready for an attack from any corner. Gaby immediately moved in to do damage control before Illya's poor social skills ruined yet another burgeoning team. But she wasn't as fast as Napoleon.

"Ah, don't let the Red Peril here intimidate you, Arthur. He's like a big, dumb animal, really. You just lure him to where you want him with loud noises and taunts."

Illya turned toward him with a fearsome scowl and Napoleon just grinned, his canines flashing. "See?"

Illya's fist was clenching next to his thigh.

"Boys," Gaby broke in, trying not to tap her foot. "Can we get to work?"

"Of course," Napoleon schmoozed and moved to a desk with a folder identical to the one in front of Arthur. "What have you got for us, Arthur?"

Arthur cleared his throat. "Actually, I need what you've got for me first. I tried to get information out of that Waverly guy, but…" He glanced between the UNCLE team members, who were looking to Gaby. She smiled. Waverly didn't tell her any more than he told them, but they didn't have to know that.

"We're tracking a group that we believe has acquired a nuclear weapon," she said. "We want to find where it's located and either destroy it or... appropriate it."

Arthur blinked. Then frowned. "I know. That's very clear. However, I prefer a bit more… detail when I plan."

"He means specificity," came the British voice from the doorway. "Our Arthur loves specificity."

He was wearing a wallet chain and a hideous pair of shoes, which Gaby was sure she'd have to hear about at lunch also, but he was holding a tray of coffees. She tried not to stare. Or drool.

He noticed anyway and brought her the first cup before making the rounds and offering one to everyone.

"You're late," Arthur griped as he accepted his own.

"Sorry, darling," the man she assumed was Eames said, settling on the desk next to Arthur, sipping his drink. "I'll come early for you next time."

Gaby's eyebrows raised almost on their own as Arthur rolled his eyes and stood to put some distance between them.

"I need to know  _specifically,_ " Arthur stressed, "who you are planning on extracting from. I need to know as much as you know about him or her, known associates, habits, family, job, anything you have. If we're going to do this, the more information, the better."

Illya and Eames were sizing each other up, and Napoleon was flipping idly through the folder while he watched them out of his peripheral vision. Gaby pressed her lips together.

"I don't understand," she gritted out. "I don't understand what it is you do here, Mr. Arthur. I am a spy. If I could get close enough to anyone with knowledge of the base, I would just find out from them myself."

Eames grinned at her, a smug, confident smirk. "We can get the information they don't want to tell you."

Napoleon flipped another page. "And how is a… Portable Automated Somnacin Intravenous Device supposed to do that?"

Arthur crossed his arms. "You do your job and I'll do mine."

"Oh, perfect!" Napoleon said, dropping the folder onto the desk. "Did you hear that, Peril? All I have to do is my job. Well, in that case, order us a bottle of your finest Armagnac, because this is almost over, wouldn't you say?"

"I would not," Illya grunted while crossing his own arms.

"Uh oh," Napoleon tsked. "Illya is not convinced. I guess you're going to need to convince him."

Eames appeared to be surveying the mountain that was Illya. "Well, you're spot on there, mate. But what I'm wondering is: what's he unsure of? Us?" Eames looked at Napoleon. "Or you?"

"Alright," Gaby said, straightening. "How about you tell me what it is you need, exactly?"

"Ideally, you mean?" Arthur said. "If I could have anything?" He shrugged. "Someone who knows the information you're looking for intimately, who has a predictable routine and who is habitually in a public setting. And if we're asking for anything, throw in a well-known location where that person is always comfortable, a date with Paul Newman, and a really good bagel and lox, and I'd be a happy man."

"Oh, is that all it takes?" Eames asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Gaby ignored them, thinking fast. "Napoleon? What about Reneux?"

Napoleon looked thoughtful for a moment and then glanced at Illya for confirmation. He glanced at Arthur and Eames. "Normally I'd say you'd never be able to get anything out of Reneux. He's second in command of the gang of miscreants we've been trying to break into, and he'd never be disloyal. But what you do— is it some kind of trick? Some way of getting them to tell you the information without realizing they're giving it to you?"

Eames pulled a poker chip from his pocket and proceeded to roll it over his knuckles. "Something like that."

Napoleon looked at Illya again and then shrugged. "In that case, gentlemen, Reneux checks all of those boxes."

Arthur looked eager now instead of slightly annoyed. "Even the well-known location? Which one?"

Gaby felt a sliver of hope at his reaction. Maybe, after months of being unable to get any movement on this one, they might be getting some good news. She almost smiled as she told him Reneux's favorite place to visit. "Notre Dame."

Arthur, instead of looking ecstatic over the popular tourist destination, blanched. Eames burst into laughter and Arthur scowled at him.

"Shut it, Mr. Eames. Can  _you_  build it?"

Eames' chuckles tapered off into a wide grin. "No, but who could we possibly ask on such short notice? And lives in Paris? And happens to be one of the best architects I've ever met?"

Arthur frowned. "Fine," he finally allowed. "But you're calling her. And you're not telling her why."

"About your Achilles heel? Wouldn't dream of it, darling."

"Fine," Arthur said again, grabbing his jacket and heading toward the door. "Tell her to be here tomorrow at 8." He pointed at Napoleon as he passed. "She is not for sleeping with."

Napoleon looked like he couldn't decide between amused or insulted for his reaction and ended up just watching Arthur walk out of the building.

Gaby was at the warehouse by ten to 8, coffee for everyone balanced in both hands. Arthur, curse him, held the door for her when he saw her struggling.

"Thank you," she murmured, and then nearly dropped the trays as she looked up. A young woman, who could only be the architect Eames mentioned yesterday, was striding towards her and Gaby felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. While she was struggling to remember how to get air into her lungs again, the woman raised an amused eyebrow, a twist on her cherry lips. Gaby blinked.

"Hello?" the woman asked, and Gaby couldn't think of what she was supposed to say in return.

The woman was lovely. There were no other words. Gaby knew she could live a thousand lifetimes and never find anyone who glowed like she did. Maybe it was just the morning sun behind her in the warehouse windows, but she stood there, confident in her own skin the way Gaby only ever pretended to be, and Gaby would move mountains for her.

" _Guten Morgen, Sonnenschein,_ " Gaby breathed, her lips working without her say-so.

But the woman must have heard her and smiled, looking pleased, while she took one of Gaby's trays and held out her other hand. "Ariadne."

Gaby clutched her composure to her and tried to pull herself together. " _Ach_ , like the myth,  _ja_?" she asked, shaking the proffered hand and trying not to seem too eager. "How are you at mazes, Ariadne?"

Her name bubbled on Gaby's tongue like sweet champagne.

Ariadne grinned like she'd been paid a great compliment. "I am excellent at them."

Gaby didn't know what to say to that, just forced her hand to release the other woman's. "Gaby Teller," she finally said.

"It's nice to meet you," Ariadne nodded and moved toward the back of the warehouse, indicating a table on which to deposit the coffees. "Eames filled me in a bit, but I have questions, and I figure you'll have some specific requests for the build anyway so I didn't want to get too ahead of myself."

Gaby tore her eyes away from the scarf at Ariadne's delicate neck, the silkiness of the fabric only highlighting the softness of the skin it partially concealed. She swallowed and tried to be the professional Waverly was expecting her to be. "Build?"

Ariadne looked taken aback and Arthur stepped in. "Ah. Yes. You've never been under."

"Under?" she asked again, frustrated with the language, the mission, and the beguiling woman who was making it very hard to concentrate on her job.

"You know. Shared dreaming?" Ariadne prompted, looking between the two of them. "That's what we do. Didn't they tell you?"

"It was need to know," Arthur said, his lips tight.

Ariadne scoffed at him. "I'd say she needs to know, Arthur." Then, she straightened, an air of excitement gathering around her. "Can I show her? Please?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Fine. But try not to show off. We don't have all morning."

"We've got ten minutes."

Arthur gave her a patronizing scowl this time. "Five. I should be saying two, you know. You don't need five."

But Ariadne wasn't listening, just making her way over to the two beach chairs which had been set up, this time with a table and a metal briefcase between them. "Have a seat," she said, gesturing to the closest chair and fiddling with the dials on the machine.

Gaby sat, her skirt keeping her on the edge of the chair as she watched Ariadne work. She threaded a tube from the machine and Gaby could see it tipped with a needle. Ariadne took her arm, gently cleaning the crook of her arm with a cotton swab.

"Sit back," Ariadne prompted, her American accent making her sound warm and amused at all times.

Gaby slid backward, her short legs and ivory heels sticking straight out in front of her on the ridiculous chair and she struggled to look like the mission leader that she was instead of a child.

"You will do the 'build'? While we are 'under'?"

Ariadne smiled at her, one corner of her mouth ticking up, but it was her eyes that laughed. "Yes. But not the one for the job. This one will just be for you."

Gaby had been watching her fingers find a vein in her arm, but her gaze snapped up to Ariadne's face at that. Her eyes were on Gaby's skin, and Gaby told herself she was imagining the flush on her cheeks.

"Just a little pinch," she murmured and then threaded the needle into Gaby's arm, taking painstaking care even though Gaby had never been nervous about needles.

"Tell me," Ariadne said when it was finally seated and she'd taped it securely, "what was your favorite book as a child?"

Gaby's eyebrows raised at the question and a quip was on her lips when she was bowled over, without warning, by a memory of her late father. She was probably four or five, sitting on her bed with her feet stretched out before her just like this. He was folded next to her, probably half falling out of her little bed, his rough hands holding her prized book. She could practically see the oil permanently steeped in his calluses and hear the satisfying scratching noise his fingers made as he turned the pages. She swallowed.

"I don't know if you know it.  _Die_ _Zwölf Tanzenden Prinzessinnen._  The Twelve Dancing Princesses," she said with a sad smile.

Ariadne gave her a wide grin. "I think I've got just the thing."

She rose, moved to the other chair and began arranging her own line. Gaby watched her, curious, but careful not to move her own line.

"Ready?" she asked, her finger on the center button. Gaby nodded, and the cold sensation of something feeding into her veins would have made her panic if she hadn't felt so… sleepy…

She shook off the sleepiness and opened her eyes, except they weren't in the warehouse anymore. It was nighttime and she was standing by herself in a clearing. Trees glittering silver and gold stretched to the darkness above, and music spilled from a nearby building.

"Oh," Gaby breathed, her voice puffing out in front of her in the chill air. She looked down at herself. A sixteenth century, sky-blue ball gown complete with, she checked, yes, a small tiara in her updo, mirrored the picture she hadn't realized she'd held in her heart for all these years.

She moved on slippered feet towards the building, drawn by its doors and windows standing open and lights and music spread out over the frost-covered ground. Everything sparkled, and she sparkled right along with it. It pulled her forward, and she couldn't help but smile.

The ballroom, because of course it was a ballroom, was full of similarly dressed people who were dancing in pairs, flitting around the edges of the room, or laughing in groups. Everyone was smiling. She looked around for a familiar face but found that they were all vaguely familiar. That man, talking to a woman in the corner, she was sure she'd seen him when she was getting coffee. That woman, Gaby thought, had sold her the hat she'd worn that morning.

"What do you think?"

Gaby turned to see Ariadne, her dress a deep burgundy color, her hair spilling over her shoulders. Gaby couldn't decide what was more lovely, Ariadne or the setting. She grinned, looking around again. "Are we 'under'?"

Ariadne smiled, looking at the floor. "Yeah, you catch on quick. This is a dream. I build it, you populate it with your subconscious."

Gaby gaped at her. "You… built this? That's what they mean by architect?" At Ariadne's happy nod, she stared at the building one more time. "How? Do you have to hold it all in your head? How do you know it won't collapse?  _Could_ it collapse?"

She chuckled in response and Gaby looked at her again, pleased she could bring out the wide, easy grin on Ariadne's face. "It won't collapse," she promised. "And if you're really interested, I'll show you. But right now, I think that gentleman would like to dance with you."

Gaby looked around in surprise at where Ariadne was indicating and saw a man standing on the edge of the dance floor, looking tall and regal in his finery. The lights glanced off his bald head, and his small smile was just for her like they held a secret between the two of them. He was here, and healthy, and holding out his hand to her. She drifted over to him as the rest of the room faded into a hum of activity.

" _Guten Abend, meine kleine Tochter_ ," he said, his gruff voice softened as he bent over her hand.

Gaby swallowed around the lump in her throat and blinked back the tears. It was a dream. Ariadne had said so. And if it was her subconscious choosing who appeared, then of course the one person she'd wanted to see most of all would appear.

" _Vati_ ," she whispered. Then she smiled. She was determined to smile for him. She wouldn't allow him to see her tears, even in a dream. She had far too much to talk to him about.

He swept her into his arms and whirled her onto the dance floor, and even though Gaby loved to dance, she couldn't remember the music or the steps or anything but how nice it felt to be wanted by her father.

"I'd always imagined we'd have more of a chance to get to know one another," her father said, "once I was sure you'd be safe."

She smiled at him again, still, forcing it on her face. "We didn't get much time," she agreed.

"I missed you every day," he said, his voice serious and his hands steady as they held her up.

She should be talking to Ariadne about the 'build'. She should be learning about this process, asking questions, and taking copious notes for Waverly. She should be a spy right now, but instead, she was a scared little girl with a plastered on smile and a silly tiara. Maybe she always had been.

She leaned her head on her father's shoulder and let him dance her around the ballroom, his voice filling up her head as he said the things she'd always wanted to hear him say, even though she seemed to forget his words almost immediately. She smiled and smiled and smiled.

She blinked awake in the warehouse again, the machine next to her blinking zeros and Ariadne sitting up beside her. She was grinning, and Gaby tried to smile back, but it felt broken, as if she'd used them all up. She glanced around to see that Napoleon and Illya had come in, and they each had one of her coffees. They'd been talking to Arthur but were watching her now. Napoleon had his patented smile, but Illya's eyes flashed with concern as he looked at her.

Suddenly, she couldn't hold even the attempt at a smile. Her fingers shook as she untaped the needle and removed it and pressed a finger to the drop of blood that welled up. She pressed hard, savoring the pain and trying to stop her hands from shaking. Illya took a step toward her, and, no. No, she couldn't do this right now. No.

Swinging her ivory shoes to the floor, she made a beeline for the door, tears blurring her vision as she heard Illya shouting at Arthur and Ariadne behind her. She couldn't stop, climbing the stairs, climbing, and climbing until her knees gave out and she sank to the dirty concrete steps, hands still shaking as she pressed her head to the wall.

She didn't cry. She wasn't a crier, she told herself as tears slipped down her cheeks. She kept her eyes shut and gritted her teeth as she heard steps on the stairs, swiping over her face and trying to slow her breathing. She expected Illya's bulk, or maybe even Napoleon's charm, but what she got was Ariadne.

Her hesitant steps on the stairs seemed almost apologetic, and she was quiet as she settled next to Gaby. When Gaby finally opened her eyes, Ariadne was watching her. She looked so remorseful, almost on the verge of tears herself, that Gaby couldn't help but huff a laugh at her own ridiculousness.

Ariadne gave her a crooked smile back and, without a word, held out an arm. Gaby closed her eyes and turned toward her, leaning into her small frame. Ariadne's arm circled her shoulder and she rested her head against Gaby's. Together, they sat, listening to the empty stairwell, an occasional Illya shout, and the whirl of wind at the bottom of the stairs as the door opened and someone, presumably Eames, entered and went into their work area.

Eventually Gaby felt better, hollowed out, but better. She straightened and Ariadne let her arm linger as she let her go. Her eyes searched Gaby's, wide and apologetic.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice soft.

"I'm not," Gaby assured her, and Ariadne's thumb swept over her cheekbone, wiping away the last trace of tears. Gaby let their foreheads drop together, let the other woman comfort her in a way she would never have let one of the boys. And when she looked up, into the warm brown eyes of someone who had managed to strike the very core of her without even trying, she realized she felt… whole. Not like she was healed, but, for the first time in her life, like she could be healed. Like someday it would grow back together.

She gave her a small, grateful smile and Ariadne looked relieved. "I should probably stop Illya from killing someone," she said and Ariadne smiled.

"Yes, please. I kind of need those two."

When they went back down the stairs, their hands found each other on their own and Gaby realized hers weren't shaking anymore. She twined their fingers together.

Sure enough, when they entered the workspace, Illya and Eames were posturing and squaring off, and Napoleon's face was a thundercloud. But everything stopped when they entered, hand-in-hand, and Gaby squeezed Ariadne's fingers before she let them drop.

"Boys," she greeted, like nothing had happened, "we've got work to do. Arthur, I need you to tell me about the dreaming, and how you will get the information from Reneux. You two," she said, looking at her team, "will work with Mr. Eames to figure out how to get Reneux on his own and who he should meet in the dream."

She settled into a chair and grabbed a nearby notebook. When she looked up, everyone was still staring at her. "Now!"

Napoleon was the first to move. "Right," he said, giving Eames a tight smile. "Well, it seems the lady has spoken."

Gaby questioned Arthur and Ariadne until they both had creases between their eyes, dragging them through scenarios until she felt like she could wrap her head around what it was they did. Her fingers itched to get her hands on their PASIV machine and tear it apart. Only the certain knowledge that Arthur would tear her apart kept her from asking.

She made Arthur take her under again, just to see the differences between the two architects, and was amazed, not only at the different style of buildings and scene (a London chase scene on motorbike that thrilled her) but a different feel. Arthur's felt almost… stuffy, which made no sense when she tried to verbalize it, and indeed they both looked at her oddly, but that didn't make it less true. His "dreamscapes", as they called them, were lush and elegant, but overall, she preferred Ariadne's dreams.

Gaby insisted on seeing Ariadne's Notre Dame for herself. They all went under for that one, except Arthur, who kept watch up top over the five bodies gathered around the device. She took one look at Illya and grinned at his slack jaw.

"This is a dream, you are sure?" he said, and she could barely wait until they had finished discussing the mission before she grasped Ariadne's fingers in her own.

"Change something," she said when she was finally able to ask, unable to keep the excitement from her voice. "Show them."

But Ariadne just looked at her like she was confused. "Change something? What do you mean?"

Gaby felt her face fall and her stomach sank. "Oh, I... must have misunderstood…" She frowned, but Ariadne had a twinkle in her eye and pointed to the sky.

Gaby looked up at the spring green sky and magenta colored clouds and laughed. The passersby looked up at the sky with disdain and hurried along, as if they could get away from the offensive canopy.

"If you think that's good," Ariadne said, "you should see what Eames can do."

Gaby turned to look for Eames, her eyebrows raised, but he wasn't standing with them anymore. She looked around but didn't see him, and she wondered if his specialty was invisibility or something. Then she froze. And looked around their group again.

Napoleon was grinning at her from both the left and right sides of their little ensemble.

The one on the left put his hands in his pockets, then the one on the right copied him. She laughed, open-mouthed and delighted, and stepped closer to the one on the left. She looked closely, then walked to the one on the right. It was like a very real game of "find the mistake", and Eames, whichever one he was, had even managed to capture the tiny mole under Napoleon's jaw and the silver cufflinks he preferred with this suit, even though they were almost unnoticeable under his sleeves.

She grinned at the Napoleon on the left. "Mr. Eames, I am impressed," she said, and that Napoleon rolled his eyes and took his hands out of his pockets. In the space between heartbeats, he was Eames again, even if he looked slightly put out.

"You and Arthur are henceforth banned from spending any more time together," he griped. "How did you know it was me?"

She hadn't, not really. But she wasn't going to tell him that. She gave him a cocky smirk. "You were standing too far away from Illya."

She got twin glares from her boys and a surprised laugh out of Eames, and then the neighborhood around them started to dissolve, like a watercolor painting left out in the rain. She watched Ariadne as the world melted around them, her smart jacket and scarf staying solid as everything else blended together, and couldn't help the rush of warmth that flooded her. For the second time that day, Ariadne had given her a gift which she couldn't imagine the value of, and Gaby wished there was a way to repay her.

When she blinked awake in the beach chair, the rest of the team struggling to sit up around her, she was reluctant to take the needle out again. A happy dream. It had been so long since she could remember having one.

She looked over at Ariadne, the two of them quiet together as the rest of the team exploded into discussion. Gaby mouthed the words ' _thank you'_ , and Ariadne flushed and ducked her head.

She came over to Gaby's side, kneeling next to her chair and helped her remove the IV line. "Do you think it'll work? For the job?"

"For the  _mission_ , Ariadne," Gaby corrected playfully just to see her duck her head again. "And the setting is accurate. We will have to work on the rest together. I have many questions yet."

"I have a lot of questions too," Ariadne said. She paused and looked down, licking her lips. "I… um. I'd really like the chance to ask you them." Then her eyes flew to Gaby's. "Ask them  _of_ you. Ask my questions. I mean." Her face was bright red as she stammered and Gaby bit her lip to keep from smiling.

"Gaby," called Illya. " _Vy khotite poobedat'?_ "

Ariadne jerked at the interruption and rose to move to the PASIV device, turning her back to them. Gaby smiled at Illya, because he'd was asking her one of the first phrases she'd learned in Russian and he still teased her that it was her favorite thing to say. But she looked at the woman fidgeting with the IV lines and shook her head.

"I'm not hungry just yet. You go ahead."

Gaby looked up, hopeful, before she busied herself at the PASIV again. Illya raised an eyebrow but shrugged, and the four men left the building together, Napoleon and Arthur deep in conversation, and Eames and Illya frowning at them. Then Eames muttered something that made Illya bark a laugh, and the door swung shut behind them, leaving a cocoon of silence in their wake.

Ariadne's hands stilled and Gaby liked this. She liked the butterflies in her stomach, the thrill Ariadne's closeness brought, the endless questions she wanted to ask, and answer for her. She already knew this mission would not be long enough for the time she wanted to spend with her.

"You had questions?" Gaby asked, and Ariadne came back over. Gaby pulled her feet up and to the side, indicating Ariadne should sit on the end of the beach chair, and just like that, they were kids at a sleepover, sharing secrets. Ariadne's eyes were bright and she actually had a pen and notepad in her hands.

"I've been wanting to ask you about your job all day. Do you mind?"

Gaby wanted to laugh. "I don't mind. As long as you don't mind if I have to say, 'I can't tell you that.'"

If anything, Ariadne looked even more excited by that. "Oh, no, I understand that, of course!" She grinned like a five-year-old at a birthday party. "How long have you been doing this? How did you start? How many languages do you speak? How long have you known Napoleon and Illya? Who gives you your job— missions? Do you know—"

Gaby did laugh, then. She held her hand up to stop the flow of words and Ariadne flushed again and smiled.

"I think I can answer all of those questions with one story, actually. And it's also about the man that I danced with while we were 'under'. Would you like to hear it?"

Ariadne nodded.

"It will take sustenance to tell the whole tale. Would you like to get some lunch?"

Ariadne grinned at Gaby and rose. "I know the perfect place." She tugged on a jacket and watched out of the corner of her eye as Gaby fixed her hat in place.

"I met Napoleon first," she said so Ariadne would look at her instead of pretending she wasn't. She tugged on her gloves. "He was trying to find my father."

"The man in the dream?"

Gaby nodded. "I was waiting for him."

"Your father?" Ariadne asked.

Gaby shook her head with a sly grin. "Napoleon."

Ariadne grinned with her and tilted her head toward the door. "Tell me."

They walked to a cozy hole-in-the-wall restaurant that Paris was so good at, and Ariadne listened intently as Gaby told the story. They ate and drank, and she laughed in all the right places and her eyes got wide and her lips parted, and Gaby wanted to tell her every mission they'd ever been on just so she could stay next to her and have Ariadne keep looking at her like that.

"Ariadne?" she asked, letting the name roll off her tongue, and delighted at the way Ariadne shivered, just a bit. "I want to answer every one of your questions, but can I ask you one now?" She waited until Ariadne nodded before she asked, "What are you doing after this mission?"

Ariadne's eyebrows drew together in the low light. "What do you mean?"

Gaby wanted to touch her, run her fingers over that crease in her forehead, down the soft curve of her brow, and over the plush swell of her bottom lip. She forced herself to stop looking at Ariadne's mouth.

"I mean, do you have another mis— job lined up? After this?"

Ariadne shook her head. "No," she said, looking shy all of a sudden. "I… I graduated in May. I haven't told anyone, although I suppose Arthur knows…" She trailed off and shrugged. "I'm kind of blowing in the wind at the moment. My lease was up, but I wasn't sure I was going to stay in Paris, but I didn't want to just  _leave_ , in case, I don't know, so I just…" She waved her hands in frustration and Gaby wanted to grab one and soothe her. Ariadne sighed. "I have been staying at a hotel for this job, but I don't know what I'm doing after that." She said it fast, like it was a confession and looked at Gaby for her judgment.

Gaby frowned, looking serious to keep herself from grinning like an idiot. "Have you ever been to Moscow?"

Ariadne's eyes were wide. She shook her head.

"Well," Gaby said, leaning forward and taking Ariadne's hand carefully in her own because she couldn't stop herself from touching this lovely woman for a second longer. "I hear it's terrible this time of year." She looked up at Ariadne's warm brown eyes. "Would you like to come with me anyway?"

Ariadne's fingers tightened around her own as she drew in an excited breath. "God, yes," she breathed with a grin, and Gaby smiled so hard her cheeks hurt.

"Good." Gaby checked her watch and then looked at Ariadne. "We've been at lunch for two hours."

Ariadne wilted a bit. "Oh."

Gaby winked at her. "Do you want to share a dessert?"

Ariadne looked like she was fighting the smile which bloomed on her cheeks, a pretty pink hue rising above her delicate scarf. "God, yes."


End file.
